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“Who am I to speak with about my sister?” he growls without taking his attention off me.
Turning the color of whipped cream, the administrator picks up the phone and hits a button. “Headmistress Lancaster? Mister Foster has arrived—”
To my left, the headmistress’s office door bursts open and a polished, middle-aged Mrs. Lancaster emerges with a hand extended. “It’s such a pleasure, Mister Foster. I-I’m so sorry you had to take time out of your—”
“Not sorry enough, apparently,” he says, bypassing her into the office.
With an embarrassed look in our direction, the headmistress follows Grant inside and closes the door. Ophelia and I exchange a nervous glance and she squeezes my hand harder.
“We need to hear what they’re saying,” Ophelia whispers out of the side of her mouth.
“How?” I ask, nodding at the front desk lady. “She’ll see us.”
Ophelia’s leg bounces a moment, then she draws out a cell phone, hitting one of the speed dial numbers. Behind the school’s front desk, the phone rings. I’m just realizing it’s not a coincidence when Ophelia cups her hand around the cell receiver and says—in a man’s voice—“Yeah, we’ve got a drifter peeing in the pool. Someone needs to come handle this ASAP.”
The administrator gasps, hangs up the phone and sprints from the office, shouting into a state-of-the-art walkie-talkie as she goes. I only waste a second gaping in astonished pride at Ophelia, before we both spring up and press our ears to the headmistress’s door.
Grant is talking, his voice in a low rasp.
“Do you recall why I had this finishing school built, Mrs. Lancaster? Why I brought the best instructors in from all over the world to teach within these walls?”
“Well, yes—”
“To give my stepsister the best social education possible. In a place I knew she would be safe and happy.” He pauses. “If she ceases to be satisfied, I will shut this school down overnight.”
“I brought you here out of concern for Sienna, Mister Foster. She fell asleep in her Time Management class and I wondered if there was something at home—”
“Listen very carefully. If she ever falls asleep in class again, bring her a fucking blanket,” he says, precisely. “Every brick in every wall was put there for her. I’ll happily take a wrecking ball to this institution and build another one to ensure my stepsister’s happiness. I’ll build a hundred schools and let Sienna take her pick, if it makes her smile. She. Stays. Happy. And safe. Every moment of every day. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’d like to speak with Sienna alone now.”
Ophelia and I leap away from the door and deposit our backsides into the seats once again, trying our best to look innocent. But on the inside, my pulse is racing at a thousand miles an hour and my body is betraying my utter bliss, turning my panties damp, my nipples painfully erect. I knew Grant liked seeing me happy, but I didn’t know to what degree. No one has ever cared about me like he does. My heart could soar to the clouds if my ribcage wasn’t keeping it in place.
“Uh, I don’t think you’ll have a problem wearing him down,” Ophelia says, earnestly.
I’m not given a chance to respond because the headmistress exits, her face flushed, demeanor harried. “Miss Foster.” She helps me to my feet and guides me like an invalid to the office. “Please. Use my office to speak with your brother. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.”
She closes the door behind her and I’m left alone with Grant. He faces away, standing at the window overlooking Lower Manhattan, arms crossed over his chest. “You looked nervous when I came in. Why?”
“You’ve given me everything,” I manage. “I shouldn’t be a burden in return.”
Grant turns slowly with a brow raised, crossing the office—one measured step after the other—to stand in front of me. His scent is so masculine and heady, it makes my thighs quake, but I do nothing but tilt my head back and wait. My stepbrother’s hands lift, settling on my waist and I battle a whimper. I have the fantastic fantasy that he’s going to kiss me, but he picks me up instead, setting me down on the edge of the headmistress’s desk.
His big hands linger on my waist. “My princess thinks she’s a burden.” He laughs without humor and I think I hear a tiny groan escape when his attention locks on my hard nipples. “Life was a burden before you showed up, Sienna. Crushing anything that gives you displeasure is not a chore. It’s a privilege.” His thumbs rub circles on either side of my belly button and it’s everything I can do to keep from squirming closer to his big, strong body. “I’m sorry you were nervous, princess.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper shakily.
“No. You being anything less than happy is never okay.” His touch leaves me and I almost cry out in dismay but bite my lip in time to keep the sound trapped. I watch as Grant takes something out of his pants pocket. A jewelry case? Yes. It’s long and rectangular—the kind that holds a necklace, and I’m still reeling over the possibilities of what could be inside when he snaps the black velvet box open and reveals a diamond necklace.
